


Crystal Cure

by Wordgawk



Category: Fate/EXTRA, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 18:52:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6163168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordgawk/pseuds/Wordgawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Archer is on the verge of perishing, what can she do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crystal Cure

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, another Archer story from my F/E play days. I had a good time writing this one, even if there were a lot of changes.
> 
> Story takes place in Fate/Extra’s Week 5, after Julius’s Servant gravely injures Archer.

Archer was severely injured by that Julius and his shifty assassin. No thanks to their attack, I was an anxious wreck all last night. Would I be able to continue this Grail War? Was Archer going to disappear? What could I do to save him?

I had awoke much too early, my trains of thinking infrequently taking stops. When I rose, I alternated between eating away my morbid thoughts at the Commissary and sticking my head inside my private room to check on Archer.

At one Archer visit, I opted to examine him up close. As stupid as it sounded, I was having trouble looking at him in detail.

Standing outside the room’s sliding door, I slowly took a breath before heading inside.

I slid the door shut quietly, so as not to wake Archer. He had slept past morning and was well going into the afternoon.

My shoes lightly tapped the floor as I approached his usual spot, his throne of classroom desks. Archer’s position hadn’t changed since my last visit. He didn’t have the strength to sit up fully, instead reclining.

My fingers clenched into fists at the sight of Archer clutching his chest over the awful wound to the magic circuits of his heart. I couldn’t see his injury, but undoubtedly it must’ve been the worst one Archer had experienced.

In front of him, I took up residence in the chair I normally occupied when we conversed, as if we were about to conduct our usual chatter.

Apart from Archer’s pained breathing, the room was mute. Sweat dotted his face and his squeezed eyes darted behind darkened eyelids.

My numb self rocked in the chair. I was absolutely worthless in assisting my Servant. I was the Master and I ought to help in any way!

I glanced at the side table beside Archer. Earlier in the morning I had set up a bowl with water, thinking maybe it would have an effect on Archer’s fever if I used it during the day. An amalgamation of ones and zeros he might have been, but he still heard and felt things just like everyone else here.

Whether or not the cold water did anything significant, at least it kept me busy. I dipped a washcloth from beside the bowl into the water. Needing to stand up to get closer, I moved and balanced my knee on the flat surface beside Archer’s own knee.

The damp cloth brushed over his overheated forehead. Archer let out a sigh. On my second pass, he stirred from his hazy unconsciousness. His eyes struggled to open.

“Master…” His hoarse voice was bereft of liveliness. “Are you all right after yesterday?”

He was the one in dire condition and he was asking about my welfare. I looked away briefly and turned back. I tried to sound positive. “Hi, Archer. I’m fine. I didn’t mean to wake you. I’m glad to see you’re-“

The word _alive_ began to form and it almost tumbled out. The word choked me with its cruelness and I coughed over it and finished, “-awake.”

Archer had to work to pull off a smile. It didn’t last for more than a few seconds when pain assaulted his insides. He winced.

He peered at the washcloth in my possession. Gently, as he probably understood its ineffective use, too, he said, “You don’t really have to do anything.”  

“H-Hey, what’s water for, if not to use?” I dipped the water again, focusing on not totally losing my cool in front of Archer. If I broke down, it was going to be messy.

I slid the cold fabric onto his bare throat. “Doesn’t that feel good?”

Archer hummed a bit. Whether his affirmation was for my benefit or actual feeling, I continued on.

“Are you hungry? I’ve got some Ether Crystals.” I put down the cloth and moved over to a stash bag of sorts I kept in here. I began digging around.

Archer didn’t react when I found an especially large piece and held it up for him to see.

My stomach dipped at his lackluster response. He really liked snacking on these. His somber expression usually subtly perked up when he saw me with them. He always tried to hide that reaction whenever I reached into my bag for something, whether or not it was something Servant-related.

I returned to Archer and offered the treat. His face didn’t perk as I hoped. It seemed to take Archer monumental effort just to shake his head no.

Staring down at the essentially useless fragment, something inside me crumbled. With a severed connection between our magic circuits, nothing else but fixing the connection would work. These normally replenishing Servant shards couldn’t restore Archer to perfect health.

A rush of mad tears welled up. I refused to let them win over me. I burst out loudly, “Right! Silly me. I’ll make this easier for you to eat.”

Pity rose out of him, his eyes softening. Archer’s hand reached out for my arm. “Master-“

“No! You’re being stubborn. Eat up, Servant. This is my order.” I heard the shrill edge of hysteria rising in my tone. I went to the sink at the end of the room for another bowl or something else to crush the Ether Crystal into.

I assembled a crude version of a pestle and mortar using a bowl and a rigid spoon. I tightly gripped the spoon handle and got to work breaking down the big Ether Crystal into granules. The lonely, almost desperate thunks of the hard spoon against bowl overwrote any other sounds in the room; past my grumbling of the tough shard, past Archer’s signs of pain.

Eventually crushed to submission, the Ether Crystal bits were ready.

Almost. A flash of inspiration hit and I set down the bowl. When I turned around, I expected to see Archer dozing. Instead, he was straining to observe me. Even across the length of room, I felt the burn of his weighty stare.

I told Archer I’d return after I picked up something, unsure of what his look meant. I travelled to the Commissary.

My request there was unusual as what I wanted wasn’t on the normal menu. The clerk couldn’t get the exact ingredients I asked for so she improvised as closely as possible to my request.

She whipped me up an alternate version of my order and the end result was a very small, very pricey powder-filled container. While high in dollars, the price was certainly nothing compared to that ruby Rin wanted before.

Back upstairs, when I pushed open the private room door, this time Archer had resumed sleeping. I walked to the sink. Fear pricked me when Archer jerked and seized his chest. He roused and noticed me. Something akin to shame crossed his expression.

I mixed some of the powder I bought with the broken Ether Crystal. I located a drinking glass and poured in the concoction. I finished it off with a fill of tepid water.

Once the drink was stirred to satisfaction, I headed over to Archer. His tired gaze met mine.

I infused a lightness to my greeting. “Hi. Sorry for the wait. Your special drink is done.” I stood there. When Archer didn’t extend his hand, I placed the cup on the desk near him for him to get later.

Archer regarded the glass which remarkably was almost clear despite the colorful powder I had tossed in. I could already tell he’d refuse it by the deeper ridge of his frown.

He didn’t disappoint. “I appreciate you making this, but I’m afraid a restorative isn’t enough to heal me.”

“You’re being picky!” My betraying voice shook. “I’ve never seen such an uptight Servant-“ A sob halted my false tirade. I covered my mouth and turned away. Some Master I was. Hopeless when my Servant’s life was at stake. I wish I knew more about Servants!

As I mentally beat myself up, I didn’t realize I was the only one standing until strength wrapped himself around my body from behind.

Archer’s labored breaths met my ears and his chin rests on my shoulder. His heat came off him in waves and I felt his body straining from the exertion it cost him to hold me.

“I’m pathetic, getting done in by a wound like this and not a fight.” Archer’s words were more heavy than his body.

“You won’t die.” My voice cracked. I couldn’t assure it.

Archer’s arms tightened with more vigor than I had seen from him today. “I won’t die without a fight, Master. We will come to the solution.” The steely determination in Archer’s claim calmed me.

That was right. Archer was trying his best to reserve his energy until his solution was found. We had beat so many obstacles up to this point. Our severed connection was another hurdle we could pass. It had to be.

I turned in his arms. While pain had ahold of his physical body, that fire of his I always admired gleamed in his glassy eyes. Archer’s resolve to overcome anything, no matter the hardship, inspired me more than I could count throughout these weeks.

I smiled the best I could. I was still uncertain about the future, but I felt better just hearing Archer speak. “We’ll find a way out of this. We’ve come so far.”

“Damn straight.” A familiar, crooked Archer-like grin appeared as he affectionately touched my cheek. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Archer’s knees buckled. I had enough sense of mind to fling my arms around his heavy frame before he fell right over. I eased him back to sit on his homey desktop throne.

His chest heaved and embarrassment flushed his face. Archer took a good minute to regain himself before reclining. He looked more stable once he got comfortable. His vision ticked towards the glass on the table.

I didn’t say anything. I simply picked up the drink for him.

In his horizontal state, an upward curl made its way to his mouth. “Master, I, ah, can’t move at all.” Archer shifted his hips, intentionally contradicting his statement.

“Uh huh.” He was planning something.

“This includes my hands, you see. I can’t hold the cup. Perhaps you can assist?”

“Holding the cup?”

Archer’s smirk was growing mischievously wider as I leaned over him with the enticing drink in one hand.

“Oh, well, as you can observe I’m not sitting upright.” His teasing palms strayed to my waist and urged me closer.

“Riiight. You’re right.” I brushed a strand of loose hair off his sweaty brow. Archer was fatigued, yet I was still losing myself in those steel-colored orbs of his.

“Your fine drink would only slosh on me if you tipped that glass, Master.”

I paused. Oh, Archer was devious. My heart rate sped up.

“Maybe I won’t give it to you, after all.” I pretended to put back the glass.

Archer chuckled. “No, no. I insist. We mustn’t let your toils go to waste.”

I was balancing myself almost entirely on his upper torso, but Archer didn’t pay it any heed. His expectant stare had an intensity that didn’t match at all with his weakened condition. My heart leaped. “Well, if you must insist.”

Raising the rim of the cup, I saw Archer following its ascent to my mouth. He unconsciously licked his lips.

His posture readily came to my attention when he did that. Spread legs, lidded gaze, relaxed muscles, his hands on me… I blushed at a sudden erotic swoop and then I think I got a fever of my own.

I took a tiny sip. The tangy concoction consists of multiple flavors. Odd taste, but for a Servant I suppose it was all right.

Leaning in all the way, I touched my lips to Archer’s. His heated skin felt incredible. He responded most enthusiastically, sealing my mouth by opening his more. Sweet liquid trickled from my lips past his.

A throaty, pleasant noise escaped Archer and he swallowed. His hand trailed up my back and settled on my neck. The tip of his wicked tongue probed between my lips, very much tasting.

A zing shot through me at his persistence. I let him explore and Archer was gentlemanly enough to drive me crazy by only tracing the edges of my mouth with his tongue. Just when my need for air made me push him, he finally released me.

“Mm, what is this delightful ambrosia made of? Surely, you’re not the creator of it because it’s so delicious.” Archer’s warm breaths puffed against my bangs. He was enjoying watching me gasp for life.

My mouth tingled. “For that wisecrack, I’m not telling.” I sipped again, raising a playful eyebrow at him.

Stroking my hair, Archer smirked, his gaze fixed on my ascending lips. “Then I’ll have to guess on my own. I like a challenge, Master.” Our mouths danced again.

They kept dancing. Archer solved the mystery of his drink on our third connection.

 

-THE END-


End file.
